


All I Want For Christmas Is You(r Cookies)

by bishopsknifepatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Actually I'll put that at the end, Bobert the Raccoon™ is the only thing that even matters about this fic okay, Christmas fic, M/M, don't ask about the raccoon incident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishopsknifepatrick/pseuds/bishopsknifepatrick
Summary: He gently elbowed Pete in the stomach to wake him up. “Ow. What was that for?” “I heard something in the living room.”  “It was probably just Bronx getting up. Don't worry about it, go back to sleep,” Pete said, just before another bigger sound came from outside their room. Pete sat up immediately, looking down at Patrick, both wide-eyed. Pointing towards the door, Pete violently whispered, “Now that was not Bronx.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kxllington](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kxllington/gifts).



'Twas the night before Christmas, Bronx, Saint and Declan were fast asleep in their beds. Both dads were worn out as they had to stay awake to wrap presents for the kids. Pete was passed out on the bed, on top of the comforter. 

 

“Pete,” Patrick said, getting no response. “Pete, wake up.” Still nothing. This man sleeps like a log when he's tired. “Peteeeeee.”

 

Pete sat up quickly in one swift motion, “I'm awake.” His eyes were still pretty much closed. 

 

“No, you weren't,” Patrick said in a soft voice, rubbing his eyes. “Now get under the covers,” Patrick closed their door and switched off the light. He shuffled over to the bed, lifting up the blanket and climbing under. Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist and snuggled his face into his neck. “G’night ’Trick.”

 

“Goodnight.” The two fell asleep quickly in the warmth of each other’s arms. 

 

About an hour passed, before a sound came from the living room. Patrick woke up immediately. He could hear a person moving around out there. Fuck.

 

He gently elbowed Pete in the stomach to wake him up. “Ow. What was that for?”

 

“I heard something in the living room.” 

 

“It was probably just Bronx getting up. Don't worry about it, go back to sleep,” Pete said, just before another bigger sound came from outside their room. Pete sat up immediately, looking down at Patrick, both wide-eyed. Pointing towards the door, Pete violently whispered, “Now that was not Bronx.”

 

“What do we do?” Pete got up and ran to their shared closet, opening slowly to not make any noise. “Pete, for the last time, we aren't abandoning the kids,” before muttering, “no matter how much we want to some days.” Pete continued digging through the mess, before finding whatever it is he's looking for. He turned around, lighting up the object, receiving a face from Patrick saying how stupid he looked. “If the lightsaber doesn't scare away the raccoon in our backyard, it's not going to scare someone trying to rob our house.”

 

Looking out their bedroom window, more to himself than to his husband, Pete said, “It definitely scared the neighbour.”

 

“Whatever let’s go.” They tiptoed to the door, twisting the knob ever so carefully, and pulling it open very slowly, making sure it doesn't squeak. Pete took one more look at Patrick and could tell he was scared. They walked very cautious down the hall towards the door opening that led into the living room. Pete peered out to to see a red suit. A Santa Claus suit. How classy for this time of the year? 

 

“Let me see,” Patrick whispered, peeking out. The mysterious visitor was pacing around the room, touching all the Christmas decor they could see. “If he takes the glass reindeer figurine, I'm going to cry,” said Patrick, as he turned back to glance at Pete. 

 

Pete grabbed Patrick shoulder and pulled him back to face him. “Patrick, what are going to do? We can't just stand here forever watching them ransack our house. What if they come over here or go near the kids?” 

 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “I don't know.” As if on cue, the person spoke, “Make sure to grab some of those leftover cookies Patrick made because they were delicious.” Emphasis on delicious.

 

“So they did like my cookies,” Patrick whispered, very excited. Pete grabbed Patrick’s hand and pulled him out into the living room, who was looking the opposite way. 

 

“Check if they have any eggnog while you're at it,” he said, looking in the direction of the kitchen. Then he realized who was now here. He smiled scared of what would happen. 

 

“Joe.”

 

“Fucking.”

 

“Trohman,” Pete said as him and Patrick were alternating words. 

 

“Joe, I can't seem to find any eggnog,” and then there was an Andy Hurley. Both Pete and Patrick were red and hot with anger. Patrick looked slightly more pissed off than Pete.

 

“WE DON’T HAVE ANY FUCKING EGGNOG BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING DISGUSTING!” Patrick yelled. Pete gently touched his shoulder signalling him that he need to calm down.

 

With a more controlled voice, Pete said, “What the fuck are you guys doing in our house?” 

 

“Okay, well, Joe and I were trying to put more presents for Declan, Saint and Bronx under the tree to creep you guys out,” Andy said. “It was Joe’s idea.”

 

“Now, that's the only thing not surprising about this,” Pete answered. 

 

“We're sorry.”

 

“No, it's fine,” Patrick was still pretty cheesed off, but it was quite relieving that it was just their friends other than someone else.

 

“We're good?” Joe asked Pete.

 

Glancing back at Patrick looking for the okay-nod, “Yeah, we're good.” Pete gave his signature smile. Putting his arm over Joe’s shoulder, he led him in the direction of the kitchen, “Now, let me show you where I hid all the cookies.”

**Author's Note:**

> What really happened with Pete and the raccoon (courtesy of angelofthedamnlord):
> 
>  
> 
> "GET OUT OF MY GARBAGE YOU FUCKER" Pete yells at the raccoon. He wakes the middle aged couple who live next door.  
> "Is that those damn rockstars again?" The husband asks his wife. She places her hand over her heart, watching out the window with concern.  
> "Yes," she replied, almost sympathetic, "He's trying to startle an animal with a toy lightsaber."  
> "He should get committed." The husband says gruffly. Pete can be heard, making various strange, disturbing noises at the unmoved raccoon. A door opens, followed by a harsh whisper of "PETER, IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING GET IN HERE."  
> "I think his boyfriend has that covered."


End file.
